


Why You Don't Explore Abandoned Bunkers

by ComicBooksBro



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angst, Castiel Makes a Deal with The Shadow (Supernatural), Dead Dean Winchester, Future Fic, Ghost Dean Winchester, I made up a lot of (inaccurate) lore for the empty and am loving it, Legendary Winchesters (Supernatural), Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Multi, Tags Are Hard, The Empty (Supernatural), The Impala (Supernatural), no beta we die like men, treading the fine line between serious and crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25128751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComicBooksBro/pseuds/ComicBooksBro
Summary: The Winchesters died a long time ago. Taken out in a blaze of glory, their names dissolved into legend, and many people believe they are nothing more than that.Many years later, a couple of hunters stumble across the Men of Letters bunker and discover that maybe the Winchesters aren't just legends.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Original Character & Original Character
Comments: 32
Kudos: 76





	1. House Tour!

**Author's Note:**

> I don't normally write Oc centric stories, but here we are. I deliberated for a long time before posting this, and I know it's not perfect, but here we go.

“Holy moly.” Monica murmured, wolf-whistling at the building in front of them as her car automatically rolled to a stop. It was tall, with grey-and-brick walls that stretched to the sky. “I know we came down here for vamps, but we’ve gotta check this out.”

“You sure?” Dakota asked, adjusting their duffle bag. “We were supposed to be in town a couple hours ago, and Kat might need our hel—“

“Kat will be _fine,_ “ Monica interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Besides, I just wanna check the place out. It’ll be quick, in and out.” She turned to Dakota and winked. Dakota grudgingly nodded, Monica wouldn’t shut up about it if they didn’t at least peek into the place.

“Fine. In and out.”

***

The rusted door squealed loudly as it opened, revealing a dusty platform which led down to an even dustier table, and then a library. A chill crept underneath Dakota’s skin, making them shiver. Monica carefully made her way down the stairs, one hand on the railing, the other resting on the hilt of the silver knife she had clipped to her pants.

Luckily, nothing jumped out at them. The table in front of them was emblazoned with a map of the world and had several old books, notebooks, and loose-leaf paper strewn across it. Monica stopped and picked up one of the books, which fell open to a well-marked page.

“This is... advanced stuff.” She muttered, running her finger over hastily scribbled notes and at least one coffee stain.

“Come on,” Dakota mumbled, tugging on Monica’s sleeve. “We’ll pick it up on our way out.” Monica agreed to continue, though she was reluctant to put the book down. The next room, however, seemed to be the source of the books, which did not bode well for moving on quickly.

“There’s even more!” Joy crept into Monica’s otherwise timid voice and a radiant smile spilled across her face. She ran to the shelves, forgetting any semblance of caution. “Exorcisms, sigils—stuff in languages I can’t even recognize. Dakota, this is _amazing!_ ” Dakota couldn’t argue with that. The library (though it was quite old-fashioned) _was_ impressive, but they needed to keep moving until they had cleared the place, not to mention they still had a hunt to get to.

“Can we focus on clearing this place for monsters before you go all bibliophile?” They said gruffly, resisting the urge to pick up a couple of the books themself and read. It wasn’t often Dakota saw books in print, and it was all they could do to stop them from burying themself in the library the way Monica seemed intent on doing. Monica grudgingly nodded and set down a book with binding and pages that looked disturbingly similar to skin. She cast one last, loving glance at the books, then started off again.

“Onwards!”

***

Regardless of how dangerous (or old) the place was, Dakota had to admit, the kitchen was pretty top-notch: stainless steel, a working (gas!) oven, stove, and more refrigerators and freezers than you could ever hope to use. A yellowed pice of paper rested innocently on the counter. Monica picked it up carefully, holding the page with the tips of her fingers.

“It’s a grocery list.” She sounded unimpressed. Dakota wasn’t impressed either, but even mysterious people who lived in underground bunkers needed to eat. “Beer, peanut butter, lettuce, beer _again_ , milk... Huh, these guys were boring.” Monica sniffed at the list disdainfully. “Awful handwriting. Probably a lawyer.”

Dakota started to smile, biting back a snicker. Then every shred of joy slipped off of their face as they suddenly realized something. Someone had lived here, someone with a family, with people who loved them--and now they were gone. All that remained were fragments of life coated in dust: a coffee mug on the table, a jacket hung over a chair, a list of groceries that would never be bought. It was depressing.

“Oh my God, Dakota—cookbooks!”

Dakota forced a smile on to their face.

***

“What’s the deal with this place anyway?” Monica asked as they continued to walk the bunker. It was much easier to see now that they had found the lever for power. Dakota had been shocked that the electrical still functioned, given the apparent age of the building. The lights flickered after Monica finished speaking, though, so maybe it didn’t work all that well.

Monica just seemed excited to explore, having completely forgotten their obligation to the hunt a couple towns over and the eerie undertone of danger the building seemed to emit. Dakota made sure they had their knife ready.

“So?” Monica prompted as she skipped down the hall ahead of Dakota, her dark hair bouncing.

“Dunno. That symbol on the door looks familiar, but I can’t remember what it stands for.” Dakota said as they propped the door to a room open and slunk in; Monica hopped in lightly behind them. “We can check the Bradbury Database for it later.” The door slammed behind them as they entered the room, blowing in more cold air. “Helluva draft,” they muttered, rubbing their bare arms.

A few weapons hung from the wall—guns, what looked like a grenade launcher, and a strange curved blade. Monica went for a trunk towards the back of the room and snapped it open. The lights flickered again, almost plunging them into darkness. Dakota pulled their flashlight out of their pocket, just in case. They didn’t trust this place.

The trunk held clothes. Worn jeans, jackets, and an oddly out of place blue tie. Monica held up a red and black checkered flannel and snapped it to get rid of any dust.

“Classy,” she chirped. Dakota sighed as Monica shrugged on the flannel and wrapped it tightly around herself.

“You’re really gonna wear Dead-Dude Plaid? You have no idea where that’s been.”

“Don’t be so squeamish,” Monica said, still searching through the trunk. “I’m cold.” Dakota couldn’t fault Monica for saying that—it was cold. It had been chilly when they entered the building, and had only got worse as they continued their excursion. The room they were in now was practically frosty. “Just help me look around.”

Dakota refrained themself from asking what exactly they were looking for and decided to poke around underneath the bed. It was made up, but in a hasty, loose way that said whoever did it was distracted. Lowering themself to the floor, Dakota picked a box at random. It was small, unassuming, and a little dusty. Dakota sneezed as they opened it.

“Dude!” Monica called, pointing at a stack of what looked like very thin files and doing jazz hands. The flannel she had slipped on was too big for her, and the sleeves covered her hands. “Records! How cool is that?” She perked up even more once she noticed the record player. “Do you think it still works?”

Dakota shrugged and dumped the contents of their box on the floor. Notebooks and sticky-notes greeted them. Dakota picked up one of the notebooks and popped the snap holding it closed. It was filled to bursting, a couple loose scraps of paper fluttered to the ground as it opened. Information on ghosts, demons, vampires and everything in between greeted them, along with recounts of hunts. The entries were signed differently, but they all ended with the same word: Winchester. At risk of sounding cliché, Winchester was a name of legend.

_Holy crap._

All of a sudden the temperature in the room seemed to drop another ten degrees.

“Hey, Dee, I found some keys. Wonder what they go to...” Monica trailed off. “Did we go sub-zero, or is it just me?”

“Not just you,” Dakota agreed. “Let’s try another room.” They slipped the notebook into their satchel as they exited, intending to tell Monica about it later.

No doubt she would flip out over having Sam and Dean Winchester’s actual hunters journal in her actual hands in actual real life. Monica had been brought up on stories of the Winchesters and their angel—Castiel. Not like Dakota hadn’t been too, but Monica knew every facet of the Winchester’s story inside and out, though the facts were debatable and seemed to change depending on what hunter you asked. Not surprising, considering no one who actually knew the Winchesters was alive, if they even existed in the first place.

Monica flipped the keys she had found over in her hand, examining them more closely.

“Car keys, pretty old by the look of it, too. There’s gotta be a garage here—who knows what else’s in there.” Monica hummed, contemplating her next course of action before turning left. Dakota followed, grumbling under their breath about being late and _Goddangit be careful, Monica!_

Before long, they reached another closed door, and after some knob-jiggling, it opened. A magnificent garage spread in front of them. Gas run cars and a couple motorcycles, all in pristine condition. _God, this place is weird,_ Dakota thought.

Monica ran to the cars and tried the keys in each one she came across. They clicked into place on a sleek, black Chevrolet. Dakota started in Monica’s direction as soon as the door popped open, fearing for Monica’s continued life as well as the condition of the car. Last time Monica had tried to drive... it hadn’t ended well. Unfortunately, Dakota didn’t get to Monica in time. Something else did.

The temperature dropped again, and something flickered in and out of existence next to the rear view mirror on the drivers side. It was human-shaped, if a little misty around the edges. Dakota might have thought they were imagining it if they hadn’t seen the eyes: piercing green, angry, and scared. No amount of imagination could conjure up the raw emotion in them.

“Monica!” Dakota yelled, trying to alert their friend to whatever ghost that was trying to manifest behind her. The figure flickered in and out of view again, looking slightly more solid this time. A rough, growling voice echoed through the garage.

_“Don’t touch my baby!”_

Monica was pushed to the ground by nothing and proceeded to skid across the floor for several feet before coming to a stop next to one of the motorcycles. Dakota grabbed salt, intending to throw it at the apparition, but it had disappeared again. They cursed under their breath as they started to run to Monica.

“Are you okay?” She nodded, already pushing herself to her feet. Dakota set about making a circle of salt around them while Monica grabbed an iron rod from their bag. The lights flickered again, and that was when Dakota realized it probably wasn’t faulty the lighting that was causing that. _Freaking ghosts._

The lights became unnaturally bright, enough so they had to squint to even see their hands in front of their faces; then every lightbulb exploded at once. Monica and Dakota both instinctively turned their flashlights on and pointed the beam straight ahead. A powerful being stood in front of them, clad in a dirty trench coat. Its dark hair was wild and its eyes were filled with some sort of wild, desperate hope.

“Where is he?” It shouted, looking around frantically.

“Where’s who?” Monica stuttered, her excited attitude replaced with fear.

“Where’s Dean Winchester? The righteous man—I felt his soul. He was here, don’t lie to me!” The creature—there was no way it could have been human—snarled, the desperation becoming more clear in its eyes. Dakota stepped protectively in front of Monica, but kept quiet.

“Please,” the creature said brokenly. “He has to be here.” Something flickered behind it.

“Oh my God,” Monica said, her skin suddenly ashy. “You’re-“

“Cas?”

The monster— _Cas—Castiel?_ —Spun around to face the source of the sound.

“Dean?”


	2. One of Many Reasons Why Vampires Suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They boys have a moment, and Dakota and Monica go on a hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okie-dokie, here we go! I really didn't expect all the positive feedback, thank you so much! 
> 
> Anyway: on to the story!

Monica and Dakota stood next to each other in the corner of one of the garage. Dakota had their knife clutched in their hand and every muscle tensed. Monica was right next to them, leaning against the wall with her hands tucked into her jean pockets. She seemed relaxed enough, but was keenly aware of the knife clipped to her pants, though it probably wouldn’t do much against the angel in front of her.

The angel.

In front of her.

The real, live angel, Castiel—yes, _that_ Castiel—was in front of her. He stood awkwardly, his eyes darting between Dakota, Monica, and Dean in the semi-darkness.

Oh yes, then there was Dean, as in Winchester—yes, _that_ Dean Winchester. Well, Dean Winchester in ghost from, anyway.

 _What a freaking wild day,_ Monica thought. Dakota silently echoed the same sentiments.

Ghost-Dean edged towards Castiel, looking uncomfortable. Monica raised her hand.

“I have a question.” No one said anything. Monica lowered her hand and pointed it at Castiel. “You’re Castiel?”

“Yes.”

“Okay—um, _wow_.” Monica sucked in a deep breath and pointed at the apparition next to Castiel. “And that makes you Dean Winchester?” The ghost nodded, but stayed quiet. “Well!” She chirped, her voice cracking. “I’m Monica; this is Dakota.” Dean scooted closer to Castiel. “Uh, we’re hunters and we _totally_ didn’t mean to—“ Dakota kicked Monica in the shin.

“What was that for?” She asked angrily, glaring at her friend

“Look,” Dakota whispered, jerking their head in the direction of Castiel and Dean. “Can’t you see they’re having a moment?”

Monica looked, and confirmed that, yes, Dean and Castiel were having a ‘moment.’ They were about a foot apart, Castiel staring into Dean’s eyes and Dean staring right back. They drank in each other’s presence like they were drowning and the other was air. _Were those—yes, those were tears in Castiel’s eyes._

“Yikes. That’s an intense moment.” Dakota nodded. They continued to watch.

Dean, who had evidently forgotten all about Monica and Dakota, reached out a spectral hand towards Castiel and tried to place it on the angel’s shoulder. It passed straight through. Monica coughed awkwardly, breaking the moment.

“Sorry,” she wheezed, “this place is kind of dusty.”

Dean shuffled away from Castiel and shoved his hands in his pockets, still looking at the angel. Dakota smacked a palm into their forehead. “We didn’t—“ they started to apologize, then thought better of it. “We’ll leave.”

Monica shot them a scathing look. _We will?_ She mouthed.

“Yeah, we’ll just go and leave you two to… uh… reunite.” They hopped off of the table and hefted their duffle bag, starting to walk backwards to the door and grabbing Monica’s hand as they passed her. “Come on!” They hissed.

“What?” Monica asked, pulling her hand away from Dakota. “No! We find an abandoned bunker, a ghost, and a freakin’ _angel,_ and you just wanna bail?”

“Yes, actually.” Dakota said, crossing their arms. “Hunting is dangerous enough as it is, but this makes it 1,000 times worse—and contrary to popular belief, I’m not in the mood to die.” They sighed and turned again. “Lets _go,_ Monica.” Monica huffed and slouched sulkily, but followed Dakota.

There would be words had later.

They retraced their footsteps back to the front door, exited the bunker, and closed the door.

“What just happened?” Monica said, slumping into the passengers seat. Dakota shrugged, pressing the button to turn the car on and typing in the coordinates for the hunt they were supposed to be at a few hours ago. The car silently rolled away from the bunker and on to the road.

Suddenly, there was a flicker behind them, and both Monica and Dakota turned around as well as they could in the car.

“—the hell?” Dean Winchester shouted, his translucent body flicking in and out of view in the backseat. Monica screamed.

“What are you doing here?” Dakota asked, voice pitching with panic. Dean looked around, seeming more disturbed by the car than anything else.

“You must have taken something—whatever I’m tied to. What is it?” Monica looked down at her newly-acquired flannel and held up a plaid covered hand.

“This is what you’re tied to?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “What? No! You must have taken something else.”

An embarrassed blush rose to Dakota’s face. “Oh crap. Monica, pass me that duffle bag.” Monica cast a judgmental look at Dakota, but retrieved the duffle bag. Monica opened it and pulled out an old, leather journal. They held it out in front of Dean so he could get a good look at it.

“Dad’s journal?” Dean muttered, pinching his eyebrows together. Suddenly there was a loud _whoosh_ of flapping wings and a _very_ pissed looking angel appeared in the back of the car.

Both Monica and Dakota screamed. Again. Castiel reached out and took the book from Dakota, popping it open and flipping to the back cover. There rested a necklace. It had a thin cord, possibly made of leather, and attached to that cord was a model of the head of a horned, humanoid creature. Castiel gingerly picked it up and slipped it over his head. “Thank you,” the angel growled. “I was looking for that.”

“Oh my God We’re really sorry Mr. Castiel Sir we had no idea we didn’t mean to—“ Monica was panicking now, all of her words were running together in a frenzied apology.

“Goodbye.” And with that, Castiel disappeared, taking Dean with him.

“Holy heck,” Dakota said, still looking at the empty space where Castiel was a few seconds ago. The journal still rested on the pleather seat, looking innocent. Dakota decided to let it be.

“How is his voice so _deep?"_ Monica muttered an awe.

“That’s your takeaway from this—really?”

“Hush,” Monica pressed a finger over her lips. “I’m still processing.”

***

They arrived at the building where they were supposed to meet Kat to finish up a long-running vamp hunt about an hour later. The run-down looking cabin was painted a tasteful, peeling pine green, and the porch was coated with a fine spray of blood and several bodies.

“Shoot,” Dakota hissed, “we missed the hunt. Kat’s gonna be pissed.”

And pissed Kat was. She stood in front of her car, arms crossed, with an award-winning glare cast towards Monica and Dakota. They sheepishly clambered out of the car.

“Hey, Kat,” Monica said, sounding a little too chipper.

“Where were you guys?” Kat burst out, stalking over to her.

“You wouldn’t believe us if we told you,” Dakota sighed, exhausted.

“I’ll bet,” Kat huffed. “Me an’ Deanna took the vamps out fine, but we got lucky. Remember how Rob said there should’ve been 15 plus? We would’a been dead in the water if there were, but we ended up with five instead.” She sighed and rubbed her temples. “Y’all are damn lucky we’re alive.”

“We’re really sorry, Kat,” Monica tried. “Can we make it up to you?”

“Yeah, you can try. Deanna already took off, and I need help with these bodies—can you do that?” Kat cocked her head and put her hands on her hips.

“Yeah,” Dakota sighed, shooting a glare in Monica’s direction. “We can do that.”

Kat clapped her hands together, smiling. “Great! Just drag ‘em over there—“ she pointed to a spot at the edge of the clearing “—and I’ll blaze ‘em.”

Monica groaned as her and Dakota walked over to the porch. “I can’t believe we have to do this,” she griped. “It’s your fault we’re in this situation to begin with,” Dakota replied, grabbing the legs of a corpse.

“Fair point,” Monica rolled her eyes and grabbed the vampire under his arms. “But still.”

Slowly but surely, they shuffled their way over to the corner of the yard and dumped the body. They had just reached the porch again when they heard Kat scream. They spun around quickly, Dakota clenching their fists, and Monica pulling the knife from her belt.

A vampire stood in the shadows of a tree, holding a machete to Kat’s neck. She laughed, “Oh, you stupid, _stupid_ hunters. Did you really think you had gotten us all?” Kat struggled in the vampire’s grasp, her eyes wide in terror. “Don’t you just _love_ ambushes?” She pressed the machete close to Kat’s neck. “Oh boys—“ she shouted in a taunting sing-song “—come and get it!”

Twigs snapped behind them, and Monica spun to see three vampires coming out of the woods behind them. Vampires were coming from all around them now—there were 15, at least. Dakota swallowed roughly, laying out plans in their mind. Every one seemed to end in death. _There’s no way we can all survive this,_ they thought grimly.

Monica’s was a mess of panic and adrenaline; her mind was jumping forward and backwards, but she couldn’t think. Suddenly she remembered something that hunters would tell her when she was little: _pray to an angel, and they will come._ It was a long shot, but the vampires were closing in and they didn’t have much time.

“Castiel!” She screamed. _Please work,_ she thought desperately, looking nervously to the sky. “Castiel!”

A whooshing sound filled the clearing and thunder rumbled in the overcast sky. Castiel stood in front of her, tilted his head like he was bored, and dropped something shiny into his hand. _Angel blade._

He launched the blade and it sunk into the skull of the vampire holding Kat, who shrieked and sunk to the ground. “Grab the blade,” he yelled to Kat, “cut its head off!” Kat, shaking, pulled the angel blade out of the vampire and brought it down on her neck.

In the mean time, Castiel had made it to the edge of the clearing and had begun to smite the other vampires. Dakota turned to Monica, who was frozen in her spot.

“What the hell just happened?”

“I don’t know,” Monica said, letting out a hysterical laugh. “I just—I just called like people said you do and—“

“And he just showed up and started flippin’ smiting vamps?”

Monica nodded, still shocked. “Uh huh.”

“Oi, dickwicks! A little help?” Kat shouted, still holding on to the angel blade and swinging it at the vampires with wild abandon.

“Dickwicks?” Dakota asked, sounding confused. They sighed and pulled the knife from where it was clipped to their pants. It was about as useful as a safety pin against the vampires, but it was all they had, so it would have to do.

A tall, heavy-set vampire stalked towards them, baring his fangs and letting out a bone chilling hiss. Dakota readied themself, and swiped at the vampire with their knife when he came close enough. They caught the vampire in the chest, but it hardly fazed him and he slammed Dakota to the ground.

Dakota groaned and kicked the vampire in the nuts. He howled and stumbled backwards a few steps. Sighing, Dakota stood and swung their knife up under the vampire’s jaw. He dropped like a sack of wet mice. Dakota turned to check on Monica, only to find her losing a vicious battle against a lithe, snake-looking vampire.

They charged forward, shouting to get the vampire’s attention. “Hey, you! Over here!” The vampire kicked Monica off her feet and spun to face Dakota, smiling with bloodstained teeth. Dakota’s heart dropped.

“What did you do?” They yelled, their worried gaze straying over to where Monica laid on the ground. Streaks of red ran down her neck, somewhat muted by the color of the flannel she was wearing. Dakota growled under their breath and started to run at the vampire, only to abruptly stop at the sudden appearance of Castiel.

The angel lifted his head, and the vampire started to scream as his eyes began to burn from his skull. Dakota shielded their eyes.

When their vision cleared, the vampire was a burned-out husk, and Castiel was crouched in front of Monica. Dakota stumbled towards the angel, trying to hold back panicked tears. “Is she okay?”

“She’s… she’ll be okay.” Castiel said faintly, lifting a glowing hand a couple inched above Monica’s bleeding neck. The cut disappeared, and both Dakota and Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. Work completed, Castiel stood up, swayed on his feet, and promptly passed out face-first into the grass.

“Well, shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Cas, hun what did you do? Feat. concerned ghost-Dean.


	3. Pain! (physical and emotional)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is unconscious and no one is happy about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3!!! Let's go my dudes!

“Oh my God,” Dakota gasped, looking at the collapsed angel in horror, “Did I kill him? I think I killed him.” Kat rushed over, brushing her tangled blond hair out of her face. 

"Who's that?” She asked, still holding on to the angel blade tightly. Monica coughed and sucked in a loud breath before Dakota had a chance to answer.

“It’s a—he’s an angel.” She coughed. “And I’m not dead. Holy crap. That’s cool.” She said, running her hand over the newly-healed skin on her neck. Kat reached a hand out and helped Monica stand up. As she was doing so, Dean flickered into being next to Castiel.

“Cas?” He asked, crouching next to the angel. “Cas!” He tried to turn Castiel over, but his hand just fazed through him. “What did you do?” He growled, turning to Monica, Dakota, and Kat.

“I don’t know!” Dakota shouted, raising their hands in surrender. “We were gonna die and Monica called him and he just showed up and started killing things and passed out—“

“After he healed me.” Monica butted in. Kat nodded. Dean stared at the bloody trio in front of him in disbelief.

“Okay,” Dean said, standing and starting to pace in small circuits around Castiel. “Okay.” He stopped, his ghostly body in-between Castiel and the others. “You have a car, right?” Dakota nodded. “Awesome. We’re going back to the bunker. You—“ he pointed at Dakota “—Aren’t hurt.” Dakota nodded again. “I need your help.”

“I… I can do that,” Dakota croaked, suddenly scared.

Dean sighed exasperatedly and rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t touch things,” he said ruefully, “so you need to carry Cas to the car.” Dakota started to move towards the angel, when Kat interrupted, stopping them in their tracks.

“Hold on—why should we help you? I don’t even know who you are.”

Dean scowled at Kat. “First off—I’m Dean freaking Winchester, kid. Second—you’re not helping _me_ , you’re helping _Cas;_ who, by the way, just saved all of your lives.” He sighed and crossed his arms, flickering slightly. “So please, do me a favor and move the damn angel.”

Kat, lost for words, simply nodded and let go of Monica, who could now stand on her own.

“Can you start the car?” Dakota asked Monica as they grabbed Castiel under his arms. Kat took his legs, and they managed to lift him. Monica limped to the car and pressed her hand to the side of the door, which popped open. She opened the back door as Dakota and Kat approached and managed to maneuver Castiel into the back seat.

 _It's been quite the day,_ she thought, sliding into the passengers seat and turning it to face the back seat. Dean materialized in the seat across from her, next to Castile. Dakota got into the drivers seat, and Kat hesitated, then turned towards her own car.

“Hey!” Monica shouted, poking her head out of the window. “You’re following us, right?” Kat sighed and clenched her fists.

“Yeah,” she said reluctantly. “Yeah, sure.”

“Good.” Dakota’s voice was darkly serious. Kat got into her car, planning to head in exactly the opposite direction that the others. She looked over at Dakota’s car, saw their face, and then decided to follow them. Dakota could be scary when they wanted to be.

“Follow them,” she told her car miserably.

_What have I gotten myself into?_

***

“This is your car?” Dean asked, seeming miffed. “It looks like a MacBook on wheels.”

“A what?” Monica asked.

Dean sighed and scooted closer to Castiel’s still unconscious form. “Never mind.” They had been driving for about half an hour now, and the angel still hadn’t woken up. Dean had been a nightmare the whole time, tapping and fidgeting and making Monica check on Castiel every five minutes to make sure he was still alive. It was exhausting, especially considering that Monica was still a little lightheaded from losing blood when she was bitten.

That being said, it was quite the relief when they pulled up to the bunker. Kat pulled up next to them a couple minutes later, which was also quite a relief. Dakota got out of the car, opened the backdoor, and cracked their knuckles. Dean flicked outside of the car, a few feet away from them. Kat stalked over, casual irritation painted across her face.

“Okay, okay, I’m here. He awake yet?” Monica shook her head.

“No,” Dean mumbled, crossing his arms. “Can you—“

“Don’t worry,” Dakota said, “we’ve got him.” They looked at Kat, “Help me?” Kat grumbled under her breath, but helped Dakota pick up Castiel. Monica limped to the door and opened it as Dakota and Kat shuffled through.

It took them a few minutes to maneuver Castiel down the stairs, and it certainly didn’t help that Dean (intangible as he was) kept materializing right in front of them. Finally, they managed to get Castiel into one of the bedrooms and onto a bed. Kat couldn't get out of the room fast enough.

Dean flickered into view next to Castiel and breathed a sigh of relief. _Do ghosts need to breathe?_ Dakota thought absently, watching Dean cast a concerned look at Castiel.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Yeah, sure,” Dakota said quietly, and turned to leave. Kat stood just inside the room, a worried look on her face.

“Monica just threw up.”

“Seriously?” Dakota asked, throwing their hands up in frustration. _Could this day get any worse?_ “Where is she?”

“In the room with the map table—she doesn’t look good.” Dakota cursed under their breath and started running, Kat followed them. Dean looked back at Castiel, found he was still unconscious, and flicked out of view, reappearing in the war room.

Kat had been correct, Monica did look horrible. She was sweating and had a greenish tint to her cheeks. She dry-heaved from her place on the floor, spitting up some pink liquid. Dakota’s stomach dropped.

“He-hey, Dee,” Monica rasped, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “I think something’s wrong.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Kat said, and turned to face Dean. “What’d he do to her?” She yelled, clenching her fists.

“I didn’t know that would happen,” Castiel gasped from the doorway, leaning hard against the wall. He looked almost as bad as Monica: pale skin, shaky, the whole package. “The odds of it happening are remarkably slim, I—“

“The odds of what?” Kat screamed. Dean materialized in front of Castiel, despite the fact that there was nothing he could do to really protect the angel.

“The odds of—of her body rejecting my grace.” Castiel panted. Everyone looked at him in horror.

“I didn’t know that could happen,” Dean said quietly, moving from in front of Castiel to next to him.

Castiel sighed and rolled his shoulders. “It shouldn’t. There were… there were some families that Chuck thought were so bad he forbade them from receiving angelic help.”

Monica groaned and rolled over, looking blearily at the ceiling, hands on her head. “Fu-ck. I’m gonna die, aren’t I?” Dakota crouched down and pulled Monica into a sitting position, putting their hands on her shoulders.

“No. Listen, you’re not gonna die, okay?” They looked at Castiel with wide eyes, “She’s not gonna die, right?”

“She'll be fine, it—“ Monica gagged again.

“That doesn’t look fine—fix her!” Kat growled, clenching and unclenching her fists.

“I can’t,” Castiel said, sounding defeated. “It will just make things worse if I use my grace.”

Kat kicked the wall in frustration. “Ow, _damnit!_ What are we supposed to do?”

“The only thing you can do is wait. It won’t be fun—but she’ll be okay.” Dakota sighed in relief and helped a shaky Monica to her feet.

“Great,” Kat said gruffly. “Let’s go.” She walked towards the door and started up the stairs. Dakota sighed and wrapped their arm around Monica, practically dragging her along. They were about halfway up the staircase when Monica lurched forwards and gagged again, spitting up something lumpy.

"I think I just threw up my spleen,” she groaned.

“Nope. Okay, Kat: we’re not moving.” Kat turned around and put her hands on her hips.

“What?”

Dakota sighed and pulled Monica back to her feet. “Does she look like she’s moving now?” Dakota managed to turn Monica around and start a slow descent down the stairs. “We just need to stay somewhere until Monica stops throwing up, it’ll be…” They turned exhaustedly to Castiel and Dean, “how long will it be?”

“Two days—three at most,” Castiel answered, wincing.

“Super,” Kat said sullenly, leaning against the railing at the top of the stairs. “And I assume we should probably stay here, ‘just to be safe.’” She rolled her eyes.

“I was actually thinking…” Dakota trailed off at the murderous look they received from Kat. They decided to direct their attention to Castiel and Dean instead. “Please? Just for a night?”

Dean shrugged. “It’s not like we don’t have room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated!


	4. Tonsil Hockey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monica throws up and Dean and Castiel talk about their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short... sorry.

Monica sat on a bed, back to the headboard, pillow hugged to her chest. She groaned and smushed her face into the pillow as another wave of nausea rolled over her and her stomach clenched. She had long ceased throwing up, due to the fact that there was nothing for her to throw up.

Unfortunately, this whole grace-sickness didn’t seem to give a damn, which was quite unfortunate, because Monica was hungry. Kat had gone on a food run so they’d have something to eat while they were stuck here, but, so far Monica’s stomach seemed determined to reject everything.

No one else was eating either, but that wasn't too surprising: angels and ghosts didn't need to eat, and Dakota and Kat were too jumpy “Do you wanna try and eat again?” Dakota asked. They were sitting next to Monica, ready with a wastebasket in case things went south.

Monica shrugged. “Why not? It’s not like I can do anything else.” She threw the pillow to the base of the bed and stood up. “Ugh. It least it isn’t worse, right? I mean my skin could be falling off or my nails or—“

“Jesus, Monica—don’t jinx it!” Dakota yelped, waving for Monica to stop.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.”

Dakota scrubbed their hand over their face, trying to wake themself up a bit as they followed Monica out of the room. They hadn’t checked the time in a while, but it was at least three in the morning by now and they were all exhausted.

Kat was passed out in a chair in the library, snoring softly as they passed her. They didn't know where Castiel and Dean were, but they assumed they were 'catching up'. 

Whatever that meant.

It had been a wild day from beginning to end. First, the abandoned bunker, then the ghost of one of the most legendary hunters ever to live, then the angel—and all that before Monica almost died. The rest of the night had been somewhat awkward, to say the least.

They made it to the kitchen without further difficulty, or, well, almost to the kitchen. They were halfway through the door when Monica grabbed Dakota’s shoulder, stopping them in their tracks.

Castiel and Dean stood in front of them, looking at each other. They hadn’t noticed the Dakota and Monica yet, and from the weight in the room, Dakota could tell it wouldn’t be good if they did.

Monica looked at them: _‘Another ‘moment?’’_ She mouthed. Dakota nodded and stepped silently backwards, back through the doorway. Monica mimicked them, tuning into Castiel and Dean’s conversation as she did.

Dean’s voice was low and quiet, wrought with pain. “I hate not being able to help—not being able to touch things.” He paused, his eyes darting around the room before finally settling on Castiel. “I… I miss being able to touch you—hug you.”

He lifted a hand, holding it a couple inches above Castiel’s shoulder. “You’re here, but I still miss you so much it hurts.” Dean sighed in a pained way, and let his hand fall, knowing it would pass right through Castiel.

It didn’t.

Dean stared at his hand, resting lightly on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel stared at Dean, tears in his eyes, and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. Dean shook with quiet sobs as Castiel held him, and returned the hug as best he could.

“ I love you,” Dean whispered through tears. Castiel seemed to pull him closer, if that was possible.

“I love you,” he said again, slightly louder, pulling back slightly from the hug. He clutched the lapels of Castiel’s trench coat and looked into the angel’s eyes. He started to speak again, but was cut off when Castiel pulled him down into a kiss.

Monica gestured wildly at the two from the doorway. “Oh my _God_ ,” she whispered.

 _Catching up, indeed._ Dakota’s jaw dropped. _That wasn’t in any of the stories._

Monica pumped her fist, “Ohmigurd.”

“What was that?” _Shit!_ Dakota thought, diving out of sight. Monica followed suit, looking a little green. There was a rustling of fabric in the other room.

“Probably nothing,” Dean said. Dakota looked over at Monica, who had hidden on the opposite side of the doorframe. She was bent over, trying not to throw up. Dakota winced and made a mental note: _no jumping._ Monica gagged. _Scratch that, no moving._ Dakota let out a long-suffering sigh as Monica threw up for the 4th time that day.

Rapid footsteps closed in on them, and Castiel poked his head through the doorway. Dean flickered into view next to him, arms crossed.

“Hey, guys,” Monica said weakly, waving. “Ignore us, we just came to get some crackers.”

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose and cast a mournful glance at Dean, who was fully intent on glaring a hole through Monica.

“You know what,” Dakota said, wrapping an arm around Monica’s shoulders and starting to drag her forwards. “We don’t need crackers after all—uh, golly, I think I hear Kat, we’d better go!”

No sooner had they started to move then a red light came on and an alarm started blaring. Dean cursed and disappeared, presumably heading to the map-table room. Sighing, the others followed suit.

It was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Kudos?  
> Comments?  
> Concerns?


	5. What now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kat is done and Dean and Cas made a big mistake.

“Demons,” Dean confirmed as Dakota, Monica, and Castiel endeared the war room. Kat, still slightly bleary from sleep, wasn’t far behind them.

“What the hell?” She yelled as something banged violently on the door. Dakota winced at the loud impact, but the door didn’t dent.

“Demons,” Dean repeated, somewhat irritated. “Maybe something worse. I thought we’d have more time…” He exasperatedly ran his fingers through his hair. “You—“ he pointed at Kat “—do you still have the angel blade?”

“The _what?"_ Kat asked.

“Angel blade,” Castiel rumbled. “The blade I threw at the vampire.” A particularly loud _bang_ sounded then, making Monica’s ears ring. She stumbled into the table, but caught herself.

Kat ran out of the room, returning shortly, with a backpack and unzipping it. She pulled out the angel blade, holding it with her fingertips. “This?”

Castiel nodded and reached out and tried to take the angel blade from Kat, but she pulled it back at the last second. “No.” She said darkly. “You get this back when you tell us what the hell is going on here.”

Castiel sighed and rolled his shoulders. He looked exhausted. “Telling you everything that happened would take more time than we have.”

“Just give us the short and dirty version, then.” Dakota said distractedly, looking for their knife.

“We screwed up,” Dean said bluntly. “Cas made a deal with the Shadow—“

“The what?” Kat asked sharply.

“The Shadow? That’s whatever controls the Empty, right?” Monica said.

“The _what?"_ Kat asked again.

“Where angels and demons go when they die,” Castiel explained. “I made a deal with the entity that controls it—and I just broke the deal, so now it’s sending demons after me. It’s supposed to take me when I’m happy, and I’d already be gone if we hadn’t subdued it years ago and warded the bunker from it.”

Monica looked at Castiel, wide-eyed. “What—“

“We’ll explain later,” Dean said gruffly. “The point is: it took Sam, it tried to take me, and I sure as hell ain’t letting it take Cas!” He sighed. “And now you’re on it’s radar, too.” He paced in front of the table, eyes going from Dakota, to Kat, to Monica. “I’m sorry.” He looked at Cas. “I’m so sorry, Cas,” he murmured. “This is all my fault.”

Kat’s eyes flicked between the two, a sudden realization dawning on her. “You said the Empty would only take you when you were happy.” She looked at Castiel. “And you—“ she looked at Dean “—said you were sorry.” She laughed and spun in a circle. “Oh my _God,"_ she laughed. “The day I’ve had…”

“Kat?” Monica asked worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m _great!_ “ She shouted hysterically. “First, I barely survive a whole friggin’ fleet of vamps, Monica almost dies, and now I find out some cosmic entity is out to kill everyone because _you--"_ she wheeled around and pointed at Dean “—couldn’t keep it in your ghosty pants!”

She smacked the table with her hand and turned her head to the ceiling in exasperation. “Fuck me!” She snatched her denim jacket off the table and shrugged it on, then her backpack.

“You know what? I don’t really care, I’ll fight my way out tooth and nail if I have to—but I’m gone! I can’t deal with this! Sayonara, bitches!” She stormed up the stairs (which she seemed to be doing a lot lately) and swung the door open.

Something screamed at her, grabbed the front of her shirt, and tried to pull her outside. Kat promptly shrieked slammed the door on its hand. “ _FUCK!_ “ She spun around and leaned back against the heavy door, revealing the front of her shirt to be in ribbons. “What the fuck?!”

“There are still demons outside,” Castiel deadpanned.

“Well there’s a fuckin’ lot of them!” Kat shouted.

“What are we supposed to do?” Monica groaned. “I only caught a glimpse of the outside, but that’s /way/ too many for us to take.” She shook her hands out as she tried to keep the panic out of her voice. “Because right now we’re stuck with Kat, Dakota, a ghost, an angel who was unconscious less than 15 minutes ago, and me—who can’t seem to walk more than 10 feet without puking my guts out. Tell me that’s not hopeless!”

“It’s not.” Castiel said quietly. “We’ve got angel blades for Dakota and Kat—and a demon-proof room in case things get bad.” Dakota tilted their head. “Under the table, there’s a blade sheathed on either side.”

Dakota crouched and looked under the table. Lo and behold, two angel blades rested under the table. They reached out and pulled one out, then circled the table and pulled the other one. The metal was shiny, cool, but not cold, and lighter than they expected. They passed one to Kat.

“Awesome,” Dean said, looking over their group. “First we kill these demons.” He looked up at the door, then to Castiel. “Then we get rid of the empty. For good.”

“You want to kill the Empty?” Monica asked, aghast. “Are you suicidal?”

Dean looked at her with dead eyes (in both the literal and figurative sense). “If I wasn’t already dead? Yes.” Castiel flashed a concerned look at Dean, who avoided his gaze. “Monica—you have an angel blade?”

“No, but I don’t think I can fight like this. I’ll throw up the second I take a swing at a demon.” She sighed and leaned against the table, trying to will away the nausea that that was crawling up to her chest.

“You won’t need to,” Kat said, glaring at Dean. “We can take out these dicks on our own.”

“And she needs a blade just in case we can’t,” Dean countered. “There should be one in my room under the mattress. Your best bet is to just hide out there—draw a devil’s trap on the floor, there’s salt somewhere in there… use that, too.”

“Let’s go,” Kat said, grabbing Monica’s arm and pulling her to the hall.

Dakota shoved their hands into their pockets, suddenly feeling very small among Castiel and Dean. Not only were they freakishly tall, but they were also freakishly imposing, and you could break a knife trying to cut the energy between them. The angel blade rested in front of them on the table, glinting ominously in the red light.

“So,” they began, “what are the odds we die?”

“You’re not going to die,” Dean said shortly. “No one else is going to die.” He paced the base of the stair, arms crossed. Kat came back a couple minutes later.

“Found the knife, she’s painting a devil’s trap right now. We ready?” She started up the stairs. “Let’s get this over with—I have plans tomorrow.”

Dakota followed Kat, Castiel brought up the rear behind them, and Dean skipped the walking and just appeared at the top of the stairs. Kat unlocked the door, holding the angel blade in her other hand, and took a deep breath.

Dakota wiped their sweaty hands on their pants and adjusted their grip on their angel blade. “Okie-dokie. Let’s go.”

Kat pushed the door open, and they plunged into battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Kat, she deserves better.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos appreciated!


	6. Murder and backstory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a fight and a heckuva lota backstory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6! Wow. I want to thank you all for your kind comments throughout the previous chapters, they helped me smile during a massively shitty week, and I appreciate them.   
> <3

They were immediately assaulted from all sides. Demons—so animalistic they hardly resembled something as tame as a demon—everywhere, biting, scratching, slashing, screaming so loud it made Dakota’s ears ring. They swung the angel blade wildly, grunting when it sunk into something squishy and distinctly _demon_ feeling. It shrieked as Dakota twisted the blade, and fell to the ground as they pulled it out, leaving an empty shell.

They looked up from the body on the ground to find much of the same happening around them. Castiel held his hand in front of a demon, smiting it, and threw his angel blade to Dean with his free hand. The blade fazed through Dean’s hand, but it didn’t seem to matter much, because it ended up stabbing a demon in the neck anyway. Dakota winced—that wasn’t a good way to go by any stretch of the imagination.

Kat was feral—there was no other way to describe her, Dakota realized as they watched Kat drop kick a demon to the ground, stab another one through the jaw, and bite a third’s ear off—all in the span of 15 seconds.

Dakota viciously swung the blade down, catching a demon in the stomach and winching as it went down with a high, rattling scream. They had no idea there was a demon behind them until they heard a sick squishing sound and spun around to find Dean, who had managed to grab Castiel’s angel blade, calmly pulling said angel blade out of a demon’s back.

“Keep an eye on your back,” he shouted over the sounds of the battle, swinging the blade to his side, killing another demon, then disappearing.

Dakota took a deep breath, steadying themself, and pushed into the thick of it.

***

It was quiet five minutes later, save for the slow drip of blood coming from Kat’s hair.

Kat wasn’t hurt, of course, she had explained when Dakota calmly (not so calmly) asked (screamed) what had happened. She had just so happened to get tackled by a demon and fall into a conveniently placed, large pool of blood.

It wasn’t like Dakota was squeaky-clean themself, they had bloodstains covering them worse than the time they needed to shove a siren into a woodchipper. Nasty business.

Castiel was covered in blood too, and looking like he had been to hell and back. Exhaustion practically radiated off of him as he leaned against the bunker wall to keep himself upright. Dean stood next to him, casting worried glances at Castiel and flickering.

“So,” Dean said, sliding the angel blade he was holding into the pocket of Castiel’s trench coat. “Inside—before more of those things come.”

Dakota pulled the heavy door open, wincing as their shoulders protested. Castiel closed the door after they were all safely inside. Kat half-walked half-fell down the stairs and launched herself into the first chair she saw.

“Okay,” she said, putting her feet up on the table. “We killed the things, now what? How’d they find us and how does this relate to the Empty?”

Dakota sank into the chair next to Kat, turning their head as they saw Monica enter the room.

“You get them?” She asked. Kat nodded exhaustively. “Are you hurt? That’s a lot of—”

“It’s not mine,” Kat’s voice was dull. Monica slid into the chair next to Dakota.

“Well, that’s good.” Monica said.

“Back to the matter at hand,” Kat said, casting a pointed look towards Castiel and Dean. “Fess up!” She steepled her fingers like a mad scientist.

Castiel shuffled forwards and sat stiffly in the chair across from Monica, wearily looking at Kat. Dean flickered into the chair next to him, leaning towards Castiel.

“No skipping things, no glossing over stuff—no nothin’.” Kat said, ticking points off on her fingers. “Full story, full-frontal, _now_.”

Dean sighed. “How much do you know?”

“All of it up until you tried to kill God, then the stories just… drop off.” Monica answered.

“Well, first, there’s no try about it: we did kill God.” Dean smiled proudly, and when no one interrupted, continued. “We killed God, and everything was great. Sam survived, Cas survived, I survived, and Jack became the new God.”

“Oh, wow. That _does_ sounds great,” Monica chirped.

“What happened?” Kat asked without a trace of sympathy in her voice.

“Kat!”

“The Empty happened. When killing Chuck wasn’t what it took to seal Cas’ empty deal, it got impatient. It felt… cheated, I guess, so it decided to try and jumpstart collection day.” Dean sighed and looked over at Castiel. The angel’s face was an expressionless mask. “We couldn’t stand for that, so we decided to beat the empty to the punch, and kill it before it could get us.”

“But I thought the Empty was almost as powerful as God.” Monica’s voice was a mix of confusion and worry.

“More-so,” Castiel said. “We were underprepared and weak from our fight with Chuck—we didn’t stand a chance at killing it.” He sighed. “But at least we managed to subdue it.”

“Okay, super,” Kat said, perking up. “How’d you do that?”

“Do you know why the empty is so powerful?”

“No.” Monica shook her head.

“Souls—or the closest approximation for angels and demons. If human souls are like nuclear reactors to angels, imagine what an angel’s soul must be like; imagine what a thousand of them could do. When the Empty takes an angel or demon it puts them to sleep and siphons off the power from their soul to keep them that way, and make itself more powerful. All that power, gathered since the beginning of time—it’s enough to kill almost anything.” Castiel sighed, sorrow filling his eyes.

Dean picked up the explanation when Castiel stayed quiet: “If you wake up in the Empty, you disturb it. It tries to put you back to sleep, and that takes power. Wake up something else, the about of power it takes is multiplied. The Empty can’t take power from something when it’s awake. Last time we launched a raid on the empty and woke up as many souls as we could. That weakened it enough so we could’ve killed it if Jack was at full power.”

“If?” Monica asked fearfully.

“Jack wasn’t strong enough. He needed time to rest after Chuck—but that was time we didn’t have. We were close.” Dean looked dejectedly at the floor. “We were so close. I don’t know what happened, but something went wrong, and Jack just… stopped. The Empty got the upper hand and…” Dean gestured at himself. “This.” He sighed softly. “It took Sam, killed me, and came damn close to getting Cas and Jack.” Dean’s voice cracked when he mentioned his brother. Kat cleared her throat.

“By ‘took,’ do you mean—“

“He’s dead,” Dean said in a muted tone. “Sleeping in the Empty.”

“I’m sorry,” Dakota said softly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean huffed. “Because we’re gonna get him back.” He looked over at Castiel and the angel nodded. “ _Because,_ ” Dean smiled slightly, “this time, we’ve got God on our side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be the finale. I think. I try to post every 2-4 days, but I am easily confused because time is fake in the time of quarantine, so the next chapter might be a few days late. Sorry.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated!
> 
> <3


	7. THE END!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle against the Empty, Jack shows up, and much more!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... final chapter. Sorry for the delay, but my life has been a little hectic lately.
> 
> Anyway, it's been fun writing this, and all your comments and kudos have helped me get through a few massively shitty weeks.
> 
> Thank you all for reading my story.

“God?” Kat said quietly, her voice squeaking. “Super.” She turned to look at Dakota, “remind me how I got dragged into this, again?” Dakota shrugged, a little (lot) shocked themself.

Castiel and Dean were turned towards each other, whispering. Dakota caught snatches of conversation as they talked: s _omething something_ —God, _mumble mumble_ —unimaginable power, and similar things. Kat tilted her head back against the back of the seat and sighed heavily, absently picking at her bloody nails.

“I can’t believe this,” Monica said, mostly to herself. “This is crazy.”

“It’s about to get crazier,” Dean said, standing up and clipping through his chair. Castiel stood up as well, and cleared his throat, turning to the head of the table.

“What now?” Asked Monica, her forehead creasing.

A small smile crossed Dean’s face. “You’re about to meet God.”

The lights quietly flickered, then shut off for a moment. When they came back on there was a man standing at the head of the table. _That’s God?_ Dakota thought. They didn’t know what they expected, but the fact that God looked so friendly was more unnerving than an angry, intimidating God.

He smiled, hugged Castiel, and then seemed to notice the other people in the room.

“Oh. Who are you?”

For once, Monica seemed lost for words.

“We’re—“ Dakota cleared their throat “—I’m, um—“ apparently, they were at a loss for words, too.

“Kat,” Kat, helpfully supplied, pointing to herself. “Dakota,” she jerked her head over to Dakota; “and Monica,” she finished, waving in Monica’s direction. “We’re presently trying not to die a painful, most likely slow, most likely bloody, death by Empty.” She rolled her eyes, trying to force away her shock at talking to God. “Or whatever the Empty sends to try and kill us.”

“It’s nice to meet you!” Jack said, smiling and sticking out his hand for Kat to shake. Mouth suddenly dry, Kat shook his hand. ( _she was shaking_ God’s _hand! How cool was that?_ ) He turned to Dean and Castiel: “So, what do you need me to do?”

* * *

The door to the bunker creaked open again, and Castiel stepped outside, walking a few dozen feet from the door. Monica, Dakota, and Kat stood in the doorway, watching intently. Castiel turned so that they could see his face, then tilted his gaze to the sky.

“I’m here,” he said in a deep, clear voice. “My time is up.” He looked around worriedly. “I’m ready for you to take me.”

***

Meanwhile, Dean Winchester was preparing to be sent to the Empty. Hopefully not forever, but it would be worth it to save Cas. He couldn’t lose Cas.

The plan was simple: get into the empty, wake up enough souls to put a strain on it’s power source, and wait for Jack to pull him back out when (if) the Empty was really dead. Easier said than done, but not for lack of trying.

Billie came easily, showing up in the bunker the second Dean called her. Naturally, she was suspicious: _what are you planning?_ And surprised: _why would you ask me to reap you after so long?_

Dean explained himself; lying to Billie was useless. Luckily, she seemed relatively unsurprised— _had she ever been surprised?_ —and agreed to reap Dean. He could tell she didn’t believe they would succeed, but didn’t care one way or the other. Billie was cool like that.

“You’re not gonna wake up in there. You know that, right?” Billie had asked, sounding bored and crossing her arms. “No one wakes up in the Empty.”

“No one _should_ wake up in the Empty,” Dean corrected. “Alright,” he spread his arms, “Let’s do this.”

The world went black.

***

An eerie silence crept over the area as Castiel stepped forward and Dakota’s ears popped. A thick, black, oily goo rose from the ground, swirling and bubbling angrily, and eventually formed itself into a humanoid shape. A humanoid shape that quickly took on the appearance of Dean.

 _Oof,_ Monica thought in sympathy, _that’s gotta hurt._

“You want to take me?” Castiel growled. The Empty smirked and took a couple bow-legged steps forward and reached out, its face dark. Castiel let out a sharp laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

***

Dean opened his eyes and was greeted with inky darkness. _The Empty,_ he thought, kicking his now-solid feet through the dark puddles. The Empty never changed, and the eerie familiarity made Dean shiver. He crouched down and placed his hands on the ground, pushing down as hard as he could until his arms slipped through the dark liquid and… whatever else the Empty was made of.

He flexed his hands in the smooth, cold liquid, looking for something to grab onto. His hand brushed something cold and rubbery and he grabbed on, pulling hard. An oil-coated arm emerged from the ooze, limp and heavy. Dean kept pulling until the rest of the body emerged. Dean pounded on it’s still chest, once, twice, three times until it gasped and sat up, spitting up dark liquid.

“Stay awake!” Dean yelled, shaking its shoulders. It nodded weakly, brushing ooze off of its face. It didn’t look familiar. Sighing, Dean stood and ran a few steps away before sinking to his knees again and repeating the action. He wiped his goo-covered hands on his jeans and looked around at the never-ending darkness; this was gonna take a while.

***

Castiel held his breath as the Empty approached, bracing himself in case something went wrong.

Monica looked over at Kat, concerned, when the Empty didn’t slow its pace. “Shouldn’t something be happening to it?” She asked, her forehead creasing. Kat just shrugged helplessly. Dakota bit their lip, focusing on the rhythm of the Empty’s steps: _one two three, one two three, one two three._

Suddenly, the steps stopped.

The Empty was still several feet away from Castiel, but now it had a hand clutched to its chest. “What,” it wheezed, its voice murderous. “Did you do?” Castiel stayed silent. “What did you do?” The Empty howled, its voice splitting and distorting until the words were hardly recognizable.

Monica backed into the door, her hands clasped over her ears, and Dakota shook their head to try and get rid of the sudden ringing. Castiel still remained quiet. The Empty clenched its fists and continued forward, crackling with an angry energy. It let out a sharp, grating laugh and started to run.

Dakota held their breath as Castiel struck out with his angel blade, slashing the indifferent Empty’s neck. It didn’t react. Castiel dove to the side, barely dodging the Empty’s attack. Crouched low to the ground, Castiel looked up at the Empty, the cosmic being wearing Dean’s face, and threw the angel blade into one of its eyes.

The Empty roared in anger, but not pain, as it reached up and ripped the angel blade from its face, holding it tightly in a fist coated in black, gristly blood. It tilted its head sharply to the side, smiling with an insane gleam in its eyes, and lifted the angel blade high over Castiel.

“I was just going to put you to sleep,” it said darkly. “But now that I have _this_ …” It looked at the angel blade, then licked its lips. “We’re going to take things nice and slow.”

Castiel slowly got to his feet, he wishing he could fly. But he was already low on grace, and didn’t want to know what would happen if he tried to use his damaged wings again. The Empty took a slow, deliberate step forward. “This is going to be fu—“

The Empty’s psychotic monologue was cut off by a slightly feral, flying Dakota. It slammed into the ground, caught off guard, with Dakota on top of it. They let out a wordless yell and stamped on its fingers. Hard. It let out a blood-curdling shriek and slammed its other arm into Dakota’s head, flinging them to the ground a few feet away.

“Dakota!” Monica screamed, starting to run to her friend. She was quickly caught by Kat.

“Don’t,” Kat said, grabbing her arm. “We’re dead if we take another step.” Monica struggled weakly, tears running down her cheeks as she watched the scene unfold in front of her.

***

The Empty was a never-ending, never-echoing, cacophony of noise. Dean stood in the center (or maybe it was the side? It was hard to tell when nothing had dimension) of the chaos, somewhat overwhelmed.

 _‘If enough souls are woken up it should start a chain reaction,’_ he remembered Cas saying. _‘Once that happens, the only thing you can do is wait and see if we win. Look for Sam; Jack will pull you out.’_

 _Look for Sam./_ Dean let out a frustrated scoff, looking around at the dark infinity around him, full of voices and confused beings.

_Easier said than done._

***

The Empty staggered to its feet, dropping the angel blade and stretching out his broken fingers. A sickening _snap-snap-snap_ came from it as it drew the angel blade back to itself. Castiel backed up, leading the Empty in the opposite direction from Dakota, who lay unmoving on the ground, blood sluggishly pulsing from their head.

 _Where is Jack?_ Castiel thought, still backing up. The Empty was weakening, it could bleed now; _Jack should be here._ The Empty stalked closer, brandishing the angel blade, its too-large too-many teeth stained black and grinning wildly.

There was a soft rumble of thunder behind the Empty, and it turned around, coming face-to-face with Jack. The Empty scowled and struck out with the angel blade. Jack sidestepped and caught the Empty’s arm, twisting it hard and shoving the Empty back. Jack struck forwards and pressed a hand to the Empty’s forehead, saturating its body with warm, golden light.

The Empty screamed, turning the color of molten gold and dripping darkness. The light increased, and Kat and Monica covered their eyes. A loud _whoosh_ sounded, and a hot wind blew. Monica opened her eyes a moment later, peeking at the scorched earth from between her fingers.

It was over.

The Empty was gone.

***

Dean ran through the Empty, categorizing the confused and dark-stained faces as he went. _No, no, no, no!_ He sighed and switched courses, making a quarter turn and resuming his sprint.

“Sam! Sammy!” He called, getting more and more desperate by the second. Time passed strangely in the Empty, and he had no idea how long he had really been here, or how long he had left. He knew finding Sam was a long shot—but if there was a chance Dean could get his brother back, he’d take it—no matter the cost.

“Sam!” It would be a wonder if Sam could even hear him, let alone be aware enough to call back or find him. Dean pushed away the dark (rational) thoughts and continued his search. Dean scanned every angel and demon’s stained face, looking for a familiar face, or some recognition. He recognized none of them, though, and they seemed indifferent to him, staring forward, unseeing.

_Wait._

Dean stopped in his tracks and looked to the side. Sure enough, a familiar face greeted him.

“Crowley?”

There was no response, but it _was_ Crowley, there was no doubt. His stare was vacant, looking at nothing, aware of nothing. Dean shivered and continued on his way. As he walked, he realized that the paralyzing numbness of the empty was fading, replaced with burning, hot humidity and dark fog.

_Bad or good, something is happening._

Dean quickened his pace.

“Sam!”

There was a splash to his left, then another. More; _footsteps._ Dean turned towards the sound, fists at the ready as a silhouette emerged from the fog. “Who’s there?” Dean asked, taking a cautious step back.

“Dean?” The figure came closer, its features solidifying. Familiar too-long brown hair came into view as Dean’s Sasquatch of a brother walked towards him, seeming slightly disoriented. Dean ran to his brother and pulled him into a hug.

“Sammy,” he whispered, voice cracking.

“What—what happened?” Sam asked, taking a step back.

“It’s a long story,” Dean said. “I’ll tell you later.” _If there is a later_ , Dean’s paranoid brain supplied. Suddenly, the floor of the Empty shuddered and an animalistic scream came from nowhere and everywhere at once.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted, praying it was nothing bad.

Then the inky blackness started to rise. That, or Sam and Dean started to sink, but neither was good. Dean tried to push himself up, desperately working to keep his head above the oil-like sludge that surrounded him. Nothing worked, though, and it was all Dean could do not to scream as he was dragged down into the dark.

***

“Fix them!” Kat yelled, pushing Jack towards Dakota’s limp form.

“I—“ Jack started.

“Fix. Them.” Kat growled through bitter tears. “No arguments. You're God—I don’t give a fuck how low on juice you are— _fix them.”_ Her voice was deadly serious. Monica was standing behind them like a spooked toddler, her breath hitching and her eyes bloodshot.

Slowly, Jack walked to Dakota, kneeling in front of them and stretching his hand out until it was an inch above their bloody temple. A gold light shone from Jack’s hand, and a high ringing filed everyone’s ears.

Dakota gasped and tried to sit up, but ended up smacking their head into Jack’s hand and falling back to the ground. “Th’ heck?” They mumbled, blinking their half-opened eyes blearily. “Get offa me,” they huffed, slapping Jack’s hand away. “Oh God,” They said, looking at Jack, suddenly horrified. “I mean, oh you—or—I just slapped God—shit, I’m sorry.” They laid their head back on the ground.

Monica launched herself at Dakota and pulled them into a bone-crushing hug, which Dakota happily reciprocated. “Ugh,” they grunted, lifting one of their hands to poke at their blood-hair. “Is—is everyone else okay?”

“Yeah,” Monica stuttered through her tears. “Uh-huh, we’re all good.” She gently pet Dakota’s hair.

“Not quite,” Kat said, sighing and slumping into a half-lotus next to them. Exhaustion clung to her bones like gum now that the main danger was resolved, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep. “We still don’t know about Dean.”

***

Darkness, total, complete, unending, unfeeling darkness.

That was all Dean Winchester could feel as his mind raced franticly, trying to figure out what to do. _Where was Sam? Had they lost again? Was Cas okay?_

Then there was a sound like a wave breaking on the beach, and Dean felt the metaphorical breath driven out of him. He opened his eyes to find himself on the ground, looking up at the sky and a very concerned Castiel.

“Dean! Are you okay?”

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but found he couldn’t; his eyesight went fuzzy and his chest burned as he forced his now-solid lungs to fill with air. _Breathe!_

Dean coughed, spitting up thick, black fluid and sucked in a shuddering breath, then another, and another. His chest ached and he groaned as Castiel helped him into a sitting position. “Cas,” He wheezed, looking at the angel with tear-filled eyes. “Is Sammy—did he make—did he make it back?”

“Over there,” Castiel said, pointing a few feet away to where Sam was, also in the ground, also gasping for breath. Dean tried to move to Sam, but ended up seeing spots and almost blacking out. Castiel reached out to try and heal Dean, a pained look on his face, but Dean ducked away.

“‘M fine, Cas. Don’t—“ Dean cut himself off with a dry cough, and Castiel moved closer, making sure Dean was okay.

Kat sighed and stood up, walking over to Sam and kneeling down to help him up, seeing as it seemed unlikely Dean could stand up without passing out, and even more unlikely for Castiel to leave his side. “Hey, you okay, dude?” Sam nodded, running a hand through his goo-matted hair and taking another deep breath.

“Who—who are you?” He asked, his voice rough and dry.

“Hmm?” Kat asked, searching through her bag for a bottle of water, which she passed to Sam, who opened it with shaking hands. “I’m Kat, Kat Chambers to be specific. I’m a hunter, and those two—“ she pointed over to Dakota and Monica “—are my friends.”

Sam nodded and brought the water bottle to his lips and chugged, spilling a little down his shirt as he did so. “Why am I—“

“Back? Your brother and his angel went on a suicide run—they’re fine—don’t worry,” she clarified after she saw the panicked look on Sam’s face. “Anyway, long story very short: they killed the Empty and I met God.”

“Jack?” Sam asked, looking around. “Is he—did he make it out?”

Kat nodded. “He should be around here somewhere…” She looked over at Castiel and Dean again, and found Jack standing near them. Dean had managed to stand too, though he was leaning very heavily on Castiel. His head perked up when he saw Sam and he tried to run to his brother, but his knees buckled and Castiel had to catch him.

“Think you can stand?” Kat asked holding out a hand. Sam shrugged and took it, pulling himself to his feet and pitching forward into the outside wall of the bunker. “Okay then,” Kat sighed, wedging her shoulder under Sam’s arm and drag-carrying him over to Dean and Castiel. “Found your brother,” she said, stepping away from Sam, who managed to stay on his feet.

“Sam; you’re okay,” Castiel said, smiling.

Mission accomplished, Kat turned around and trudged back to her friends, exhausted. “Everybody still alive?” She asked, only slightly sarcastically. Dakota nodded and stood up, as did Monica. “Thank God—let’s get outta here.” She jogged to the car and pulled open the door, practically hurling herself inside. Monica and Dakota quickly followed suit.

“Let’s go in and look around, she said; in and out, it’ll be fun, she said,” Dakota mocked as Kat turned on the car. Monica laughed, sounding slightly hysterical.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, because we’re _leaving_ and never coming back, right?” Kat asked.

“Never again,” Monica muttered under her breath. “Never again.”

For some reason, Dakota had doubts about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! 
> 
> Quick question: if I were to write more stuff with Monica, Dakota, and Kat would you guys read it?
> 
> Thanks again for reading!
> 
> (Comments and kudos appreciated!)
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> So, that's that. What'd you guys think? I don't really know where I'm going with this, but it'll be fun anyway. 
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated!


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